MDLO Orchestra with
Cecile Licad

Johannes Brahms

Born: 7 May 1833, Hamburg, Germany
Died: 3 April 1897, Vienna, Austria 

Piano Concerto No. 1 in D minor, Op. 15

Composed between 1854 and 1859 for piano with orchestra, using material intended for a projected symphony (1854) and sonata for two pianos (ca.1855-58), neither of which was completed.

An extraordinary melding of musical heritage and progressive outlook made Brahms an overwhelming presence in the latter half of the 19th century, and beyond. The most recent edition of The New Grove Dictionary describes him as the “successor to Beethoven and Schubert in the larger forms of chamber and orchestral music, to Schubert and Schumann in the miniature forms of piano pieces and songs, and to the Renaissance and Baroque polyphonists in choral music”, adding that he “creatively synthesized the practices of three centuries with folk and dance idioms….” Most of these elements can be discerned in one way or another in the composer’s monumental First Piano Concerto.

The creation of this gigantic work, longer even than Beethoven’s “Emperor” Concerto, occupied Brahms for at least five years. After beginning a two-piano sonata in 1854, he soon realized that the musical material required orchestral treatment. Following the wise decision to combine piano and orchestra, Brahms recast the opening as the first movement of a piano concerto; the other movements of the sonata were discarded (although one of them reappeared later in the composer’s German Requiem). A jaunty new finale was completed in late 1856, followed by the radiant slow movement, but the composer continued to make adjustments up to and even beyond the first performances of the Concerto in January 1859.

Considering the intensity of the work, it may not be so surprising that a critic wrote of the second performance, in Leipzig, that the Concerto “cannot give pleasure,” lamenting that it contained “the shrillest dissonances and most unpleasant sounds.” Especially when compared with the bucolic rapture of the First and Second Serenades, Op. 11 and Op. 16, which Brahms composed in 1857 and 1858, the Concerto is an uncompromising and awesome piece of work, and it remains so even 150 years later.

The Maestoso first movement opens with a mighty noise: as clarinets, bassoons, timpani, violas, and basses sustain an ominous pedal note, violins and cellos declaim the melody with stabbing accents and menacing trills. Before long the other winds are added to the violent assault, but then an espressivo variant lends an air of melancholy, with the theme eventually rising to an exalted register in the first violins. Another outburst, with horns reinforcing the theme, subsides again to make way for the solo piano, which enters with what must be one of the most understated thematic statements in the entire concerto literature. There is a hushed, hesitant, almost stuttering quality, all the more surprising when we know that this very same solo will soon gather up its courage and challenge the orchestra with its own ferocious statement of those menacing trills. As thematic materials are traded back and forth during the 20-plus minutes of this movement, we can only marvel at how well-suited each element seems, both to the orchestra and to the keyboard.

After the earthly struggles that mark the first movement, the Adagio is, quite literally, a world away. “I am painting a gentle portrait of you,” wrote Brahms of this music to Clara Schumann, whose husband Robert had died in 1856. There is a devotional aspect to the music that most likely reflects the composer’s appreciation of the “ancient” masters (e.g., Palestrina). Clara herself noted the movement’s “spiritual” quality.

The final rondo is begun by the piano alone, and many commentators have compared the outline of this movement with the finale of Beethoven’s Third Piano Concerto. The truth, as so often with Brahms, is that any models and forms fade quickly in the bright light of the composer’s personality, so distinctive and so charismatic. Combining the rhythmic vigor which would become a regular feature of his concerto finales with the “learned” style of the Baroque masters and an ample supply of virtuoso passage-work, the music reminds us that Brahms would create his masterful set of Handel Variations in 1861.

Movements:

1. Maestoso (D minor)
2. Adagio (D major)
3. Allegro non troppo (D minor)

Recommended Recordings: 

* Brahms. Piano Concertos Nos 1 & 2. Seven Piano Pieces, Op 116. Emil Gilels /  Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra / Eugen Jochum (DG) Recorded 1972-75

* Brahms. Piano Concertos Nos 1 and 2. Four Ballades, Op 10. Scherzo, Op 4. Eight Pieces, Op 76 Stephen Kovacevich/London Symphony Orchestra / Sir Colin Davis (Newton Classics) Recorded 1979 & 1983

* Brahms. Piano Concertos Nos 1 & 2 Nelson Freire / Gewandhaus Orchestra, Leipzig / Riccardo Chailly (Decca) Recorded live 2005-06

Béla Bartók

Born March 25, 1881, Nagyszentmiklós, Transylvania (now part of Romania).
Died September 26, 1945, New York City.

Concerto for Orchestra

Composed in 1943. Premiered on December 1, 1944 by Boston Symphony Orchestra, under Serge Koussevitzky. Instrumentation: 3 flutes (3rd doubling piccolo), 3 oboes (3rd doubling English horn), 3 clarinets (3rd doubling bass clarinet), 3 bassoons (3rd doubling contrabassoon), 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, timpani, percussion, 2 harps, violins, violas, cellos, basses

As a child, Béla Bartók showed definite signs of becoming a piano prodigy and was encouraged by his parents to follow the path of a performer rather than of a composer. He did enjoy composition, though, and produced nearly fifty works by 1899, when he began a serious study of theory and composition at the Liszt Academy in Budapest. As his style matured, he gravitated toward nationalistic music. For a young Hungarian, this meant making use of the artificial Hungarian “flavorings” used by Liszt and Brahms. There was a little else upon which to base a nationalistic music, because Hungary’s rich and varied musical heritage was virtually unknown to academic musicians, particularly those trained, as Bartók was, in the German tradition. This unfortunate situation changed in 1905 when Bartók “discovered” Hungarian folk music and spent the next eight years collecting and systematically cataloging it with the help of Zoltán Kodály. In doing so, he discovered a music rich with the inflections of the Hungarian language. The melodies often made use of ancient church modes, and the rhythms were highly irregular. All of his compositions written after this period of discovery show the unmistakable influence of folk music. They became increasingly personal and complex, and these traits made it difficult for Bartók to gain public acceptance. During the period between the World Wars, he was greatly respected as an ethnomusicologist but began to suffer fiscal problems due to the infrequency of performances of his works.

In 1940, Bartók and his family moved to New York for political reasons. There they suffered serious financial problems, which were further complicated by the effects of Bartók’s undiagnosed leukemia. Few musicians knew of Bartók’s condition. Those who did attempted to help him financially, but never with the composer’s knowledge for fear of wounding his pride. In 1943, Bartók’s friends Joseph Szigeti and Fritz Reiner privately urged the conductor Serge Koussevitzky to visit Bartók’s hospital bed with a commission for an orchestral work designed to show off his Boston Symphony Orchestra. A reinvigorated Bartók accepted the challenge and, in a period of only two months, completed the Concerto for Orchestra.

When asked to explain his use of the word “concerto,” Bartók said that he meant that the individual sections of the orchestra were often treated in a “soloistic” manner. The first movement is in traditional sonata form, but with themes and rhythms strongly influenced by Hungarian folk music. Near the end, they are played backwards, forwards, and upside down. The second movement bears the subtitle Giucoco delle coppie (Game of the Couples) in the score and parts. However, the manuscript clearly labels it as Presentando de coppie (Presentation of Couples). In this movement, pairs of bassoons, oboes, clarinets, flutes, and muted trumpets each present their own melodies separated by fixed intervals. After a chorale by the remaining brasses, each pair returns—this theme with their melodies embellished by additional instruments.

The third movement brings back some of the first movement’s material in an impressionistic elegy equally as rich in the spirit of folk song. The following movement is a simple intermezzo with two alternating folk-like melodies. In the middle, however, there is a rude interruption which owes its existence to Bartók’s dislike of Shostakovich, whom he believed to be overrated. According to Bartók’s son, his father happened to hear a broadcast of the “Leningrad” Symphony while working on the intermezzo. He was moved to parody Shostakovich’s work by inserting an interruption by a clarinet playing a march tune from the symphony. The clarinet is, in turn, greeted by jeers from the trombones, a repetition of the theme in the style of a German band, and a final parody by the tuba. Bartók then completed the movement as if the interruption had never taken place.

The final movement begins with a brilliant horn call followed by a theme which is presented in the strings and then subjected to every imaginable contrapuntal device. A second theme by the trumpet later becomes the subject of a fugue, and all of the themes are brought together in a stunning finale dominated by a triumphant brass section. The premiere by the Boston Symphony in December, 1944, was an unqualified success. Fortunately, Bartók was able to attend and accept the acclaim for what would be his last and most popular work for orchestra.

Movements

1. Introduzione
   II. Giuoco delle coppie
   III. Elegia
   IV. Intermezzo interrotto
   V. Finale 

Recommended Recordings:

* Bartok: Concerto for Orchestra; Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta; Hungarian Sketches. Fritz Reiner, Chicago Symphony Orchestra

* Bela Bartók: Concerto for Orchestra; 3 Village Scenes; Kossuth. Ivan Fischer, Budapest Festival Orchestra

* Bartok: Concerto for Orchestra / Dance Suite / Two Portraits, Op.5 / Mikrokosmos (2) excerpts. Antal Dorati, London Symphony Orchestra

George Gershwin 

Born: September 26, 1898, Brooklyn, New York, NY
Died: July 11, 1937, Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, Los Angeles, CA 

An American in Paris, subtitled “A Tone Poem for Orchestra”, was composed in 1928, when Gershwin was not quite 30, on commission from the New York Philharmonic. It premiered at Carmegie Hall in New York City on Dec. 13, 1928, and it was the first of Gershwin’s purely orchestral works, with no role for piano but plenty of jazz harmonies and spirit. Instrumentation: 3 flutes, 3^rd doubling piccolo, 2 oboes, English horn, 2 clarinets, bass clarinet, alto saxophone, baritone saxophone, tenor saxophone, 2 bassoons; 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba; timpani, bass drum, crash cymbals, glockenspiel, large tom tom, small tom tom, snare drum, taxi horns of different pitches, triangle, wood block, xylophone; strings. Performance time: 17 minutes 

In 1951 (after Gershwin’s passing), it was given cinematic interpretation in the classic Gene Kelly film of the same name. Gershwin himself called it a “rhapsodic ballet.” Certainly it is danceable, and the free-flowing nature of rhapsodies also seems appropriate to the piece. The term Gershwin apparently did not know at the time was “program music,” meaning an instrumental piece that has a story to tell or a scene to paint, though without supplement of voice, dance, or narration. The music itself serves to tell the tale. One particularly famous example of the genre is Paul Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice from 1897; Gershwin’s piece is no less evocative than Dukas’.

Gershwin began the work in the summer of 1924. Having been asked by conductor Walter Damrosch to write a full concerto in follow-up to the success of Rhapsody in Blue, which had premiered that winter, Gershwin had decided that he would benefit from more advanced compositional training and so set off for Paris. There, he found that the greatest names of music—amongst them, Ravel and Stravinsky—were disinclined to tamper with the jazz star’s innate skills. However, he also found inspiration for what would be his most orchestrally advanced score to that time.

An American in Paris offers a kaleidoscope of musical impressions, opening with a light-hearted strolling melody soon interrupted by the honking of taxi horns. A busy street scene ensues, brassy interludes alternating with bubbly clarinets. Melancholy bluesy melodies, sometimes for woodwinds, sometimes for strings, most prominently for muted trumpet, occupy the central pages. A quick change of mood leads to sassier colouring and a new spotlight for trumpet. Firm dotted rhythms of alternating short and long notes transition to a rich restatement of earlier materials, now broader and more leisurely in manner. Short solos for the unusual pairing of violin and tuba set up the spirited conclusion derived from the opening strolling melody. Throughout, the composer displays how effectively this star of the jazz world had internalized the sound of the orchestra. He may have been turned down for advanced studies with the big names in the field, but he had kept his ears engaged and learned what he needed to know to make the most of orchestral colour.

An American in Paris premiered Thursday evening, December 13, 1928, at Carnegie Hallwith the New York Philharmonic, newly united with the New York Symphony and under the leadership of conductor Walter Damrosch, formerly of the latter ensemble. Also on the program were the Magic Fire Music from Die Walküre of Richard Wagner (1813–83), the Symphony in D Minor from Belgian composer Cesar Franck (1822–90) and a short work by Franck’s countryman and protégée, Guillaume Lekue (1870–94).

Gershwin’s score was by far the liveliest of the lot. Moreover, the fact that Damrosch included it in the program alongside two established masterworks implies that he was confident of its excellence. Some listeners that evening would have come for the classics; one hopes that they were also impressed by the new work. As for the Gershwin fans who came to find out what the composer of I Got Rhythm was doing in Carnegie Hall, perhaps they came away thinking that this “classical stuff” was not half bad. 

Recommended Recordings: 

* Gershwin: Rhapsody in Blue & American in Paris. Leonard Bernstein (piano), New York Philharmonic Orchestra & Columbia Symphony Orchestra 

* Gershwin: Rhapsody in Blue & Piano Concerto. André Previn (piano & conductor), London Symphony Orchestra 

* Gershwin: Rhapsody in Blue and An American in Paris. Chicago Symphony Orchestra, James Levine